


Bruises heal

by Sumariajane



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 04:05:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumariajane/pseuds/Sumariajane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A phone call during a game is never good news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruises heal

**Author's Note:**

> This needs a lot of love that I am just too tired to do right now. Idea attacked and I had to put it on 'paper.'

When I see the number of the training staff on my phone my heart clenches like an icy hand is holding it too tight. I may have stopped breathing, getting a call during a game is never a good thing. It is something to be dreaded, something that haunts you in your nightmares, because it means something has happened.

I answer the phone right before it goes to voicemail with a shaky hello. The voice on the other end is just as shaky and onstantly I know something is wrong. I hear someone saying that I should go to the rink, that it is nothing major but I keep seeing him dazed from the concussion he had last season, the glassy look his eyes got when it didn’t heal fast enough for his liking, the pain hidden behind the tears he wouldn't shed at not being there for his team when they needed him. 

I say I will be there and leave the office where I work, going down to the parking garage of the building trying to keep a brave face, but scared that something is very wrong. Normally I am told what happened over the phone. The normal ‘hospital to make sure his spine is okay’ or ‘surgery for the broken broken bone’ this time no explanations are given and my mind goes to the worse senario. 

I make it to the rink and it seems that everyone knows who I am and points me in the right direction, they probably do know who I am, even if I cannot remember if I had met them before. I see a familiar face the same time they see me and get a sympathetic nod. Probably the same person who calls me stands as I approach the door. He puts a hand on my shoulder but stops when we reach the door. “he is mostly awake now, but dazed.”

Inside the room on a bed blinking is the man I love. The healing black eye I made fun of this morning over breakfast still visible but not the center of attention on his face. Instead the new stitches on his jaw and the bruises adorning what seem like the rest of his face drawing my attention. I have seen pictures of him in worse shape, but seeing it in person less than 2 hours after it happens is much more real. 

The team doctor tells me how he has a concussion and how to deal with him for the night. I walk closer to him and put my hand on his arm, showing my silent support. I hear the door open behind me, measured steps walking towards me before I turn to look at the person who joins me. He is covered in sweat and still wearing his game jersey, sweat drenched hair plastered to his face. He just stands there for a few second before saying the guys won the game but were worried about him. 

I look towards the man I love as he looks over at me his eyes finding mine. His eyes may be red, they are still the eyes I fell in love with. No one says anything knowing that talking to loud might make him feel worse. I feel movement next to me and a hand being put on him leg before a quiet almost whisper of “they won for you.” Even though he feels bad he smiles, the gap in his teeth still there. He looks back to my face and says quietly “The bruises will heal but Lord Stanley waits for no one.”


End file.
